


No Mas Control

by dametokillfor



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-07
Updated: 2009-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the line, the power had shifted. Matt had Brian completely wrapped around his little finger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Mas Control

Brian wasn’t used to Matt having this power over him. He’s supposed to be the one who - even when submitting - has an almost hypnotic hold over the other man, not the other way around. Matt’s supposed to be the one who turns into a stammering mess, even after so long together, not Brian. But somewhere along the line, the power had shifted. Matt had Brian completely wrapped around his little finger.

And it’s all the fault of _those damn curls_.

When Matt had first broached the subject of growing his hair with Brian - as such things were a group decision ever since Brian had cut his off - the older man had found the idea hilarious. Matt had pushed him out of bed because he’d been laughing so obnoxiously loud about the idea. But Brian’s power over Matt won again, a sweet smile up at his partner and an apologetic blowjob and everything was fine again. Brian told Matt to go ahead, do what he wanted with his hair - knowing full well the other man didn’t have the patience to grow it.

But then he did.

Brian watched as Matt’s short buzzed hair slowly grew longer, to the length it had been when they first got together back in ‘04. Brian would have been quite happy for him to leave it there, all the memories of their first awkward few weeks together flooding back. They had some of their best sex during the weeks his hair was this length once more, both reminded of just how crazy they’d been when they first hooked up, when everything was still secret and almost forbidden.

But it didn’t stop there, however. The growth did become less obvious for his partner though. Matt would wear hats all the time, his hair being flattened all day. When the hat was removed, his hair stayed flat. Short of the small amount of curls at the nape of his neck, Brian could barely see any difference. The fact the hat stayed on all the time left Brian convinced Matt was about to give in and shave his head again.

-x-

The guitarist had just returned home from a day of interviews with guitar magazines when he’d first seen the curls in all their glory. He’d thrown his keys on the side and walked into their shared living room, complaining about how one of the interviewers seemed more interested in getting his number than discussing his techniques. He’d secretly loved the attention but he wasn’t about to tell 180lb’s of muscle that.

He’d been talking away, stripping himself of everything he didn’t need, phone, wallet, jacket, shoes, that he barely noticed Matt just laying there. As his attention finally turned to his lover, the question about how his day had been caught in his throat. There it was, a glorious mane of soft, honey brown curls framing his lovers smiling face. He wasn’t even paying attention to Matt’s state of undress, he was simply captivated by the hair he was sporting.

“Something wrong, Bri?” Matt asked, his mouth curving into a smirk which Brian was more used to seeing in the mirror.

A large hand moved from the side of the couch Matt was stretched out on to run through the curls, Brian’s eyes on it the whole time, wishing he was the one doing it. He was well aware of the fact he could quite easily go over there, climb atop his lover and do as he pleased but something in him was stopping him.

Matt’s hand moved through the long curls once more, a contented sigh spilling from his lips as he did so. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Brian simply grunted and announced he was having a shower, leaving Matt laughing to himself.

That night, as they ~~made love~~ fucked, Brian made sure to never let go of those beautiful curls, hoping this would kill this damn obsession before it started.

-x-

It didn’t.

As he woke first the next morning, Brian just lay watching Matt sleep, his fingers itching to comb through the sleep flattened curls. He never tended to get too gooey and fluffy with Matt. They may have been in a relationship but they were still manly men, _goddamnit_. Matt knew Brian loved him and vice versa. They said it, they just didn’t feel the need to profess it at every given opportunity. But right now, shit, Brian could have written fuckin’ sonnets about how in love with this man he was.

And it was all this damn hair.

He wasn’t about to deny that Matt was fuckin’ hot, he’s not completely stupid. From his deep golden/green eyes, to his full cock-sucking mouth, to those dimples that not even Brian was immune to. And that was just above the neck. No, Brian wasn’t about to deny to anyone that he was very sexually attracted to his partner. He just wasn’t used to his appearance being such a massive deal to him, to feeling so powerless over something so trivial.

Matt had woken up soon after, all yawns and sleepy smiles across at Brian, “Morning.”

Without even thinking, Brian had blurted out; “I love you.”

Matt just smirked at him, “You talking to me or the hair?”

“You?” Brian says, voice dipping upwards.

Matt smiled and pressed a kiss to his boyfriends temple, “Of course.”

He slid out of the bed and headed across to the en-suite bathroom attached to their sizeable bedroom. Brian fell back on the bed, head dipping into the soft pillows.

This obsession was getting ridiculous.

-x-

Brian was thankful when they spent their time writing with the other guys in the band, his hair was usually covered under one of his many caps during this time. Even Matt knew teasing Brian during this time was stupid. They were still band mates after all. The fans came first and if their album suffered because their guitarist couldn’t get his damn libido under control, they were screwed.

Of course when they took breaks, Matt wasn’t above teasing Brian a little, pulling the hat off, combing his fingers through his curls. He loved watching the other man squirm in his seat, excusing himself for long periods. Brian had done the same to him countless times, Matt figured it was time for some payback.

He hadn’t expected this little experiment to yield such startling results. He’d pretty much expected the polar opposite of what had happened, Brian hating the hair so much he’d actually start cutting it off in his sleep. (They’d done that to Johnny one time, bit by bit, slowly causing his mohawk to shrink down to almost nothing, poor kid thought he was shrinking). He’d been as amazed as everyone else when Brian had turned into this mess over something so simple.

They’d been driving home from Jimmy’s one day when Brian had finally shed some light on the situation.

“It’s like… like that time we don’t talk about.” He said, turning to Matt who was drumming his fingers on the wheel along to the Machine Head CD playing through the speakers. Matt turned down the amusing cover and nodded, allowing Brian to go on.

“Like, when that happened, I was so fuckin’ powerless.” Brian explained, “You were the one in control, you knew what was going to happen with us, whether us was still going to exist and…”

“Brian, are you actually comparing my long hair to you cheating on me?” Matt asked, getting a little annoyed.

“No!” Brian insisted, rubbing his head as he tried to figure out a way out of this without an argument, “I’m just saying that it puts you in control like you were then. Jesus, Matt, I can barely keep my hands off you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Matt asked.

“I don’t like being powerless.” Brian snapped, almost flailing in frustration admitting this.

A slow, devious smile spread across Matt’s lips, before he leant across quickly to peck Brian on the cheek, “Well, honey pie, I love it.”

Brian just sneered and leant back in his seat, refusing to talk for the rest of the journey. He made sure to show Matt exactly who was in control that night, taking him against the wall of their bedroom, gripping those goddamn curls so tight Matt’s ass wouldn’t be the only thing feeling him for days.

-x-

It’s a glorious sunny Sunday morning the next time anything happens. At least Brian is pretty sure it’s supposed to be, he can’t really see anything behind the blindfold strapped to his face.

The few weeks following Brian’s explanation had been relatively uneventful. Matt kept his hair covered most of the time, Brian only saw it when it had been crushed by the hat. He wasn’t driven quite so crazy by it like that. It’s not to say their relationship suffered, Brian was just able to spend longer than five minutes around Matt without excusing himself or fucking him into a wall. It now took at least fifteen minutes in the man’s presence to turn Brian into a desperate, horny mess which was much more acceptable to the guitarist. The balance of power was once more tipped in his favour and he felt more at ease for it.

But now Brian’s pretty sure something is going on. Mainly because he can’t see a thing, his hands and feet are bound to the bedposts and there’s a gag stuffed in his mouth.

He yells around the gag between his lips, flailing as best he can while tied up, not impressed with this sudden turn of events. (He is however impressed that Matt’s been able to do all of this without him feeling it).

When the bed dips and a voice like molten sugar drips over him, he finds it hard to stay too annoyed.

“Good morning.”

As his lover straddles across his naked thighs, he’s trying to remember what he’s annoyed about.

“I have always been in control, Brian.”

At that, he’s struggling to even remember who Brian is.

A large, rough hand grips at the blindfold over his eyes, pulling it free. The same hand moves the gag from his mouth, letting it rest at his neck. Brian blinks a few times, his eyes getting used to the light. As his eyes adjust, he looks up to see Matt looming over him, the sun falling through the large windows behind him, bathing him in the early morning sun. The sinister face of Shadows is looking down on him now, grinning like he’s a jungle cat who’s caught his prey. He’s wearing nothing save for the boxers he fell asleep in last night.

And that goddamn hair is falling around his face like a fuckin’ halo.

“Fuck, Matt.” Brian whispers.

It’s moments like this he realizes just how goddamn beautiful his lover is, how completely this man owns him.

And as this realization hits him, another comes in it’s wake.

“You bastard.”

Matt starts laughing now, knowing exactly why Brian’s cursing him.

“We’ve been together five years, Bri.” Matt tells him, spelling out what Brian’s already figured out, “You’ve only ever had the illusion of control. Whenever you get your way, you’ve always had to do something for me first. You’re fuckin’ whipped, dude.”

“Motherfucker…” Brian spits out, no real malice in his voice, just sheer annoyance at being one upped without having even realized.

Matt leans down to kiss Brian, who’s still cursing him. His hand cups Brian’s face as he drops a soft kiss on his lips, the guitarist only _just_ shutting up when their mouths meet.

“You fuckin’ love it, Gates.” Matt says, pulling back from the sweet kiss.

Brian sneers at him, causing Matt to laugh at him again. He pulls at his restraints again, “You want to untie me, Matt?”

Matt shakes his head, “No. See, Brian, you‘ve been ripping my hair out these past few weeks, fuckin‘ hurts.”

Matt illustrates his point by grabbing a handful of Brian’s thick, black hair and yanking hard. Brian cries out in pain ~~_totally_ mingled with pleasure though he’ll never admit it~~.

“Y’see?” Matt asks, still gripping the hair.

“Fuck you, Sanders.” Brian hisses.

Matt laughs, a deep, low rumble which goes straight to Brian’s dick. He drops Brian’s hair, runs both hands through his own, something Brian would kill to be doing right now. His hands rest at the back of his head as he looks down on the other man, “You really want a response to that, Bri?”

Brian’s about to come back with some smart ass comment when the gag - which he’s realized is one of Matt’s bandanas - is replaced. A light tap to the cheek before he speaks again, words designed to piss Brian off.

“Because I really don’t want to be a cliché here, babe.”

Brian’s eyes narrow at the term of endearment, something which causes Matt’s grin to grow even wider. He’s crying out muffled curses against the bandana. The bigger man moves down, whispering in Brian’s ear, “You know I could just leave you here right now, go to the diner, get some breakfast, maybe see what Zack’s doing.”

Matt takes great delight in how much Brian tenses at this point. He knows Brian knows he’ll do it. Shit, he _has_ done it. Matt still believes that was the best April Fools gag he’s ever played. Brian’s family however thought otherwise.

“Or I could prove to you that you have never had the control.” Matt says, looking at his lover now.

As much as Brian isn’t willing to admit this, that sounds infinitely preferable to the other option. He nods to this.

“You like that?” Matt asks.

Brian nods again.

Matt pulls the bandana free from Brian’s mouth, “Then beg for it.”

Brian stares at him with indignation. He’s Synyster fuckin’ Gates. He doesn’t beg anyone for anything, regardless of current developments.

There’s that alpha gene they both possess making this interesting now.

Brian’s won’t let him back down, telling him to refuse to beg. The idea is so distasteful.

Matt’s is just revelling in how goddamn beautiful Brian’s going to look desperately pleading with him.

“Beg me for it, Bri.” Matt says, slowly rolling his hips against his lover.

The older man tries to push up to meet him but large hands hold him down, “Beg me to show you who’s in control.”

Matt’s wins out.

“Please.” Brian mutters, the word barely audible.

“What was that?” Matt asks, rolling his hips against Brian once more, watching as the older mans face contorts from one of annoyance to one of sheer bliss.

“Jesus, fuck.” Brian hisses, still not pleased about his position, “Please Matt, please fuckin’… just please.”

Matt smirks, shaking his head, “Not good enough.”

“The fuck do you mean not good enough, you fuckin’ sadist?” Brian all but screams, his voice so high in exasperation he expects the dogs to attack them.

“I mean,” Matt starts, hands back behind his head, sitting back on his haunches, “I didn’t believe it. Come on, Bri, you make the world believe you’re this hotshot, renegade rocker who’s all about the easy money and the easier chicks. Make me believe the truth. Make me believe that you‘re my bitch.”

Brian’s eyes widen, mouth falling open. He tugs at the binds holding him again, making sure there really is no way out of this. Matt just sits, smirking down at him. A frustrated sigh falls from the guitarists lips.

“I hate you.” Brian hisses.

“I know.” Matt says, voice dancing on the edge of a laugh.

Brian rolls his eyes, sucking up his pride, trying to remember exactly how he ended up in this situation.

He peers up at the man smirking down at him, the man who’s fingers are combing through sandy brown locks.

And a sneer comes across his face.

 _He really hates those fuckin’ curls._


End file.
